a convenient nook for his angling, invited his 'friend Lindamor to share the advantage with him, and began to walk thitherward along the ' river's brink? but he had not marcht very far 'when chancing to tread on a place, where the course of the water had worn off the bank, and 'made it hollow underneath, he found the earth 'faulter under him, and could not hinder his 'feet from slipping down with the turf that betrayed him.'

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ANGLER. I do remember: and if that should chance to be my predicament, I hope you would have the civility of Lindamor, that catcht hold of him, and drew him to the firm land.'

PAINTER.-Oh Signor Pescatore, doubt not my charity, though I might not deny myself the same liberty that Honourable Mr. Boyle took with his friend Eugenius, 'to make himself merry a while with the disaster when he found it to 'be harmless.'

ANGLER.-Well-well, Sir, I give you leave; and let him laugh that wins, I am not afraid of a somersault if a good fish chop at my fly.

PAINTER.-Farewell then and I'll go lower down and please myself.

ANGLER.-Aye, good brother, do so; and pr'ythee reach me the landing net before you go. PAINTER.-There it is, and I wish you may have sport.

ANGLER. Look you, Sir; I have a fish; 'tis a small one, I grant you.

Occasional Reflections by the Honourable Robert Boyle. 1665.

PAINTER. Do you call that a fish? he's a piccolo a pisciculus ;-and listen-methinks I heard him speak.

ANGLER.-Speak? mayhap thon takest him to be Vox PISCIS, or the BOOK-FISH, Contayning three treatises which were found in the belly of a Cod-fish in Cambridge market on Midsummer Eve last.'* And since thou art so imbued with fish-learning, I beseech you to tell me whether this be a trout, or what other fish I have caught?

PAINTER. I know not if it be the Dog-fish, the Sea-calfe, the Porpus or Hog-fish, or the Asse-fish called in Latine Asellus :-or perchance it may be the Monk-fish-the Mere-man or the Mermaid: all which I remit to your better judgment. But listen, I say; for though I am not so wise a philosopher as Æsop, I have, methinks, suddenly imparted to me his noted intelligence of fishes' language, and certes I hear this one speak.

ANGLER.Well then, will it please your

The incident here referred to, of a book found in the belly of a cod-fish, taken on the Norfolk coast, and brought to Cambridge market, on Midsummer eve, 1626, is no less true than strange. Fuller attests the fact in his Worthies of England, folio, p. 359, and says he was in Cambridge at the time: and in Parr's Life and Letters of Archbishop Usher, folio, p. 345, is a letter from his Grace to Dr. Samuel Ward, dated 30th June, 1626, in answer to his communication of the same fact. I have myself seen a copy of one of these treatises, in 'sexto 'decimo,' printed in black letter, and entitled 'The Pre'paration to the Crosse and to Death, and of the Comfort ' under the Crosse and Death.' John Frith, who suffered martyrdom in 1533, was the author.- ED.

marvellous wisdom to be our mutual interpreter, and give me the substance of this learned fish's soliloquy?

PAINTER. It is no soliloquy; for his address is to yourself,-and seeing (or it may be feeling) how you are taking the hook out of his gills with a most relentless love, and are going to put him into your basket, he opens his mouth, and in a pathetical voice implores your pity, making his humble suit that you would be pleased to throw him into the river again,-by reason he is young and insignificant, and not so well worth your while as he shall be some time hereafter, if you catch him, when he is grown more considerable.

ANGLER.-Oh-ho! Go to-Go to-thou art a wag; and I beseech you give my duty to him in the same learned hidden language which he hath so eloquently pleaded in ; and tell him I am not one of those fools who quit a certainty for an uncertainty ;—and that 6 a fish in the pannier's worth two in the pond.' But stay-because he is a grayling, and not a trout, I'll e'en put him in again, and let him grow till Christmas for Mr. Cotton's amusement. But now look you, brother, saw you that great fish leap from the water?

PAINTER. I did; he looked as big as a salmon; give him the temptation of your fly.

ANGLER.-Trust me. There he is, I have him fast. So, so, Master Ballyhuff, you are not like the last; you are for a hard bout, I see. Ah, ah! this is a trial of strength, and I fear for my tackling.

PAINTER.-In with him, Sir.

ANGLER.-Nay, let me be gentle. Look you, that was his last struggle; there he lies his length on the water. So, I have him, and he is full eighteen inches long. Well, Mr. Painter! what say you now to my Dove?

PAINTER. I declare to you, it is all a bewitchment my tongue is ready to praise every next turning of the river more than the other; and I scarce know which to like best, this angling, or the landskips. Look you! there again are rocks springing up like steeples on this side, and on that it is all full of surprises.

ANGLER.-Those rocks are called the Tissington Spires;' for that retired village lies but the distance of a walk to the left, passing through Bentley that you know of; and here. are two rocks that have slided from the cliff, and have thrust themselves into the river; they are known to be The Brothers,' and so I have brought you within a view of Thorpe Cloud.

PAINTER. Is that Thorpe Cloud?
ANGLER. None other, believe me.

PAINTER. Well, I declare! he is more changeable than a Proteus; for here he looks like a beheaded cone.

ANGLER. And now, brother, you are come towards the end of the Dale.

PAINTER.-Tell me not this sad news: I may not believe it! or if it be true indeed, let us recline ourselves on these banks by the stream, and meditate for an hour or two, and angle and sing, and angle again; and after that

beguile the time with some passages out of Mr. Walton's book. Or, if we must needs depart, let us first, sit down by the waters, and hang our harps upon the willows, and weep.'

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ANGLER. I am charmed to think how these sweet prospects have engaged and fixed your affections; and how you are now become a professed angler, and how at some future time you may desire to take another walk on the banks of my River Dove. But, I beseech you, climb with me to the top of this accessible rock, that is called by the country-folk here about, The Lover's Leap' there you may look back on an upward prospect of the Dove, that is more remarkable than any other you have seen. And after that, you shall explore some quiet nooks and corners by other streams, and hear something marvellous I have to tell you of.

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PAINTER.-Well, I am content to follow your footsteps wherever you are pleased to lead me. ANGLER.-And now we have scrambled up, let us sit on the grass, and tell me what you think?

PAINTER. I know not what to think or say. Where shall all these wonders end! here is one of the most enchanting surveys that this or any other county in England can exhibit.

ANGLER.-Do you observe how the Dale is drawn out to the greatest length possible? for passing back again by those Tissington Spires,' and the two Brothers,' and the rocks above Reynard's Cave,' the eye may look almost as far as the Shepherd's Abbey ;' and all the way along, an exceeding number of pellucid water